


Carmelita

by FrancesHouseman



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Almost first time, Episode: s09e08 Rock and a Hard Place, F/M, M/M, Sibling Incest, kind of pre-slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrancesHouseman/pseuds/FrancesHouseman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They could have been an advert for modern fun-filled all-American sex, if you swapped the tartan motel room for a tastefully decorated bedroom, assumed they were married and conveniently forgot that the lady in the bed was also the lady in the porn movie. They looked good together, that was the point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carmelita

All the warning signs had been there in retrospect: Dean’s feigned reluctance to go with Sam when Jodi called, fresh from the ER and demanding a drink, doctors be damned; The eagerness he tried to hide at the prospect of having the motel room to himself for the evening; Dean’s humming in the shower, showering at all for that matter, when all he had to prepare for was a lonely evening of television. Sam had assumed that Dean was going to re-watch Casa Erotica for the billionth time whilst joyfully re-living his lunch time endeavours with Suzy, or Carmelita as he insisted on calling her. 

 

Oh, Dean was re-living it alright but in the most literal sense. In fact it seemed that Dean was doing both at once, and wasn’t that just so Dean? The _Carmelita_ sitting between Dean’s splayed thighs was giggling softly but it must have been the Carmelita on television who was making the x-rated moaning noises, because all Dean was currently doing to the real-life Carmelita was pulling up her breasts by the nipples and idly letting them drop and sway. They were both watching the television with matching fond smiles and Dean glanced down over her shoulder every time he let her breasts fall, smirking at the jiggle. 

 

They could have been an advert for modern fun-filled all-American sex, if you swapped the tartan motel room for a tastefully decorated bedroom, assumed they were married and conveniently forgot that the lady in the bed was also the lady in the porn movie. They looked good together, that was the point. 

 

Sam hesitated at the window feeling all of fourteen. Dean seemed to have regressed to an earlier version of himself that Sam now realised he missed, sorely. The Dean on the bed with the blonde in his lap looked so happy and so easy in his skin. He clearly wanted to be seen with her, and really, who wouldn’t? The lamp light and open curtains put them on display to anyone who happened to be lurking outside, the nets doing nothing towards privacy. Maybe she hadn’t realised. Maybe she didn’t care. It was a re-emergence of the infuriating over-sexed demi-god of Sam’s youth and his damned exhibitionist tendencies that had nearly driven Sam insane. 

 

Smiling in spite of himself, Sam wondered what to do. He had thought this Easy-Dean lost by the wayside in the carnage of their lives and he mentally cheered to see him alive and smirking, albeit with a hot woman in their shared motel room. He could leave them to it. If he cut Dean a bit more slack they would have time for round two, possibly round three. Sam stamped on that train of thought because he was assessing his brother’s erotic dishevelment and stamina whilst spying on him, and Sam liked to keep some pretence of normal wherever possible. Call him sentimental. 

 

On the other hand, Dean had been “alone” for four hours, Sam and Jodi deep in nostalgic recollections of Bobby. If Sam knew his opportunist of a brother then Carmelita would have been here for most of that time. For all Sam knew they could be heading for round four and there was nothing to say that Carmelita would leave before Sam got back anyway. Dean was practically begging to be caught.

 

Sam squared his shoulders and knocked. They weren’t horny teenagers anymore. They were big grown-up… well, _grown-ups_ and so that’s how he was going to do this. He wasn’t going to get sucked into any of Dean’s games and he wasn’t going to give up any more hours of sleep to Dean’s raging libido. 

 

“Come on in Sammy!”

 

Head-to-door, hard, seemed a fitting punishment for Sam’s naivety. He mentally kicked himself in the shin as well, for good measure. There were no sounds of hurried dressing, banging of doors or stifled giggling noises that might indicate embarrassment. All was quiet inside except for the soft moans of good porn and a faint wet sound that may or may not be on-screen kissing. So much for not getting sucked into Dean’s games. 

 

The door wasn’t even locked.

 

The kissing was off-screen, a private show for Sam’s enjoyment only. Dean was pinned to the bed, Carmelita’s voluptuous buttocks veiled by a thin sheet but clearly defined nevertheless and directly in Sam’s line of vision. Apparently Dean had decided to dive right back into the game of sex-chicken they’d had going on before Sam left for Stanford. He was raising the stakes too because boldly inviting Sam to watch him going at it was new. 

 

Sam doubted that he could have kept his cool back then, and now? He was going to bust a cylinder any moment. Carmelita threw him a sultry look over her shoulder and Sam allowed his jaw to hang open for a moment. Had they talked about him while they were having sex? She looked as though she wanted to eat him, in the good way. Then Dean emerged, smug and flushed, and the fraternal competitiveness inside of Sam roared to life like a beast with teeth. 

 

“Don’t mind me,” Sam said, sauntering to the bathroom. He felt awe at his ability to act nonchalant but _losing to Dean_ could not be allowed to happen. Not as a kid and apparently not now either. Dean was looking for an emotional response, prissy outrage or quivering embarrassment. He probably hadn’t factored in the danger that Sam might forcibly remove Carmelita from the equation and take Dean for his own, but Sam was planning to keep that to himself anyway. 

 

He pissed, cleaned his teeth and took a long hard look at himself in the mirror before stripping down to his underwear to sleep. The room was in darkness but it sounded like they were still kissing. Dean’s lips were going to be so fucking puffy. Sam resolutely got into bed and turned his back. 

 

On occasion denial and repression were good friends of Sam’s, despite what Dean might think. On this occasion however, Sam decided that he was man enough to admit that there was no way he was going to ignore the goings-on three feet away in Dean’s bed.  He listened to the wet sounds of mouth against mouth, mouth against skin, the hush of sheet against skin and the faint swish of heated skin against skin.  He heard Carmelita’s small hungry noise that could only mean _yes, please, inside me again_ and the tell-tale snicking of rubber as the condom was rolled down, closely followed by Dean’s, “Oh yeah,” all drawn out and addictive. 

 

Sam rolled onto his back, hand snug around his cock. He raised his knees to make a tent of the sheets in a feeble attempt to hide the movement of his hand. It would probably be obvious what he was doing, what he _needed_ to do by now, aware that this might be some kind of victory in Dean’s favour and so far past caring. If there was any luck left to him then Dean would think it was all about Carmelita. 

 

It was pretty dark but Sam could see enough to drive him clear out of his mind. He let himself look. She was riding Dean, writhing torso silhouetted in the thin light from the window.

 

“Think my baby brother’s getting off over there.”

 

There were so many ways Sam could think of to shut Dean up right now.

 

“Think he likes your sexy body, baby.” Dean punctuated his words with his hands, running them up and down Carmelita’s sides, kneading her breasts and gripping her hips as she ground down onto him.  “Think he wants a piece of this fine ass for himself.”

 

Carmelita gasped and Sam just _knew_ that Dean had slipped a finger in there. His own ass clenched in sympathy, or possibly envy.

 

“I could take you both.” Her voice was breathy and sexy as hell and she was looking over at Sam while she said it, eyes hidden, as she rode his brother’s cock. “Wanna join in baby?” And damn if she didn’t make it sound like a real possibility. “Come on Sam, let me take care of you too, I’ll make it good.” They were conspiring to kill Sam with lust. Dean had found his female counterpart and she was very nearly as hot as the male version. 

 

“You’d do that?” Dean’s voice was all admiration. 

 

“No es mi primer rodeo.”

 

The Spanish seemed to have a wildly stimulating effect on Dean if their tempo was anything to go by. Sam made a mental note to invent a case close to the Mexican border, for the sake of scientific enquiry. He could hear Dean panting and imagined how it must feel to be thrusting up into Carmelita’s hot, sweet body. 

 

Sam sat up because he couldn’t help himself, feet hitting the floor, all pretence forgotten, sheet and underwear kicked away. This might be the only chance he ever got and the memory could sustain him for years, maybe forever. They were fucking each other’s brains out now, there was really no other way of describing it. So close to Sam, close enough to touch. And Dean must be nearly there because Carmelita was coming, fists bunched on her thighs, hips circling even as her body shuddered, soft hair swaying. So hot. So fucking hot. 

 

Dean outright whined when she lifted herself off him, and Sam wanted to be uncharitable about it but he was in sympathy overdrive. He would have whined too. Sam’s breath caught in his throat when he realised that she was rearranging them on the edge of the bed, Dean sitting facing Sam, their knees almost touching, Carmelita also facing Sam, sliding down on Dean’s cock, Dean’s hands groping everywhere on her front. 

 

Dean’s eyes were half-hooded and the easy confidence was still there, a strange mixed of relaxed happiness and lust drunkenness. Dean in his favourite place. He looked really really happy and Sam wanted to give everything to keep him that way. 

 

Sam glanced down and could see a slight sheen of wetness where they were joined, maybe the base of the condom, maybe her slick juices running down over Dean’s balls. He felt hot all over at the proximity to Dean and imagined reaching out and touching Dean there, feeling Dean’s wet balls creep up firm against his body as he prepared to come, like Sam’s were doing. 

 

A last vestige of competitiveness made Sam want to hold out for longer than his brother. Dean had a strapping blonde riding his cock after all, and Sam only had his fist. Her movements were different now, more controlled, and he imagined her inner muscles clenching and milking Dean’s cock.  

 

And oh God! Dean was watching Sam’s cock with the look of a starving man. He was practically drooling. “Dean?” Sam croaked. The past eight years had been a constant trial of Sam’s sanity but this, THIS was the moment when Sam’s mind was finally going to implode because Dean was looking right at him with dark, dark hunger and need. Sam wasn’t going to last. The orgasm about to take him might actually end it all. 

 

Carmelita shot him a wicked smile and leant her head back, exposing her long pale throat. She hissed, right into Dean’s ear, “Tu eres un chico _muy_ malo.”

 

Dean came with a horse cry, eyes scrunched closed and a look of unbearable agony on his face. Sam followed him over, lips bitten tight together to keep his brother’s name inside where it belonged, spilling all over his fist and thighs.

 

Collapsing back onto his bed seemed like a natural enough thing to do, so Sam went with it. The next few minutes had the potential of being the most awkward ever and he had no idea what happened next. Dean had it though, steadfast in all matters of quiet bravado. Sam’s Inner-Dean-voice said, _Watch and learn Sammy, watch and learn,_ but that was another version of Dean that needed no encouragement so Sam ignored him. 

 

Sam was largely ignored as the quiet sounds of cleaning up, kissing, dressing, more kissing and soft words surrounded him. He concentrated on cleaning himself up and scooting up against the headboard, pooling the sheets over his groin and failing to look like he wasn’t paying close attention to Dean’s murmurs of, “So good,” and, “Can die happy now,” and that easy smile. 

 

Carmelita lingered in the doorway, throwing a, “Bye Sam,” in his direction. And then she was gone. The door clicking shut. 

 

Dean rested against the closed door with a wistful look. “Adios,” he said and it could have easily been _Amen_. 

 

They lay in their own beds, in the dark, and Sam was certain that sleep would evade him but it was okay because Dean had still been easy. Maybe there had been a hint of embarrassment, detectable only if you knew him really well, but he had given Sam a contemplative look followed by a fond smile, and apparently decided that all was well enough before getting into bed. Matter closed. 

 

“Night Sammy.”

 

Sam hadn’t even felt sleepy until those words were uttered but he was suddenly overcome with bone-deep weariness and barely managed his own, “Night Dean.” His body slept instantly, almost as though something foreign inside had switched off the lights. 

**Author's Note:**

> Just because Dean's smile in that scene with Suzy made me want to die of squee. 
> 
> I guess I'm pretending they checked out in the morning or something :)


End file.
